


Five Times Jack Surprises Bitty, and One Time Bitty Surprises Jack

by eustilly



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coming Out, Feels, Fluff, Head Injury, Injury, M/M, Real Smooth Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10010141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly
Summary: Pretty self-explanatory.  Major characters are  Jack, Bitty, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster. Cameos by Frogs, Tadpoles, and bunnies. Minor mentions or suggestions of blood, sexy times, and douchebags.





	1. Bitty is Celebrated

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to keep with the OMG timeline and stay canon with regard to Jack and Bitty's relationship (and when they went public to certain parties). I may have gone rogue at some point. #alternativefacts
> 
> ROUGH TIMELINE:  
> HOCKEY SEASON: OCTOBER 1 - FEBRUARY 28  
> February 2015 - Chapter 1  
> May 2015 - Graduation + Zimbits  
> August 2015 - Bitty returns to Samwell for hockey training (educated guess)  
> September 2015 - Chapter 2  
> December 2015 - They come out to the team as a couple before Winter Break  
> March 2016 - Chapter 3  
> May 5, 2016 - Chapter 4  
> June 2016 - Chapter 5

“Bitty, you beautiful son of a bitch, get over here!” screams Shitty. He’s wearing a jockstrap on his head and not much else, despite the cold, winter temperatures. The victory party has been dialed to an 11 for at least an hour and every room of the Haus is filled to capacity. Lardo finds Bitty and takes hold of his arm, dragging him to the keg that Shitty is occupying like a throne. “Here you are my brother. A cup of Boston’s cheapest brew, all for you.” He climbs on top of the keg like he’s done it a million times. And it’s Shitty, so he has. 

“Everyone, shut your traps and listen up!” When the noise dims to only a 9, Shitty screams, “I will take away all pie privileges for the semester if you all do not shut up right now!” In less than five seconds, the music had been paused, team members were shushing strangers, and the noise level settled to a comfortable four. 

“Thank you, geez. Now, as you all know, we beat the fuckin’ Brown Bears tonight.” A quick cheer went up before he glared them into silence again. “But what all of you may NOT know is that, after a brutal third period, the winning shot was taken by our own Georgia Peach, Mr. Eric Bittle.” Some more clapping ensued. “Shut it! In our grand tradition, dating all the way back to three weeks ago, the player that did something ‘smawesome gets a piggyback ride around the living room by an upperclassman, while everyone else sings ‘The Final Countdown.’ Tonight’s chariot will be drawn by one half of the burly, bromantic duo, Holsom-- or is it Ranster? Hell, both of you get over here.” When the room refrained from celebrating for fear of more retribution, Shitty yells, “Clap, you monsters. What the hell’s wrong with yous?” Finally, everyone went nuts and chanted “Bittle! Bittle!” 

Right as Ransom and Holster step forward to collect Bitty, a loud whistle sounds from the stairwell. Jack is making his way down from his room and heads towards the commotion. “If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to have the honors tonight.”

Shitty, who appears to be speechless for the first time in his life, finally lets loose a loud guffaw and slaps Jack on the shoulder. “Brah, you could shag the entire football team and I wouldn’t care. I’m just glad you’ve emerged from your Fortress of Solitude.” In a louder voice, Shitty adds, “Behold! Captain Jack has dubbed this mortal worthy and shall do the honors himself.” There’s more cheers from the crowd. Ransom and Holster make their way to the thick of the crowd and kickoff the song with a decent mimicry of a keyboard.

Bitty, who is still in shock, looks to Jack, and says, “Jack, are you sure?”

Jack smiles and squats to help Bitty onto his back. “I owe you, Bittle. I was a bit of an ass to you earlier this season, and you’ve turned out to be a really good friend and teammate.”

Bitty gives his blushing, lopsided grin, shrugs his shoulders, and hops on. Jack waits until Bitty is settled before he stands, making his way to the living room.

It’s slow going, what with half the room flailing an air guitar and closing their eyes. Bitty chirps into Jack’s ear, “Sorry you old people got roped into this somehow.”

Jack snorts at the chirp. “Somehow? There’s no mystery about it. Holster is an idiot.” 

“Heh, that’s true, but Ransom wasn’t completely innocent, either. I saw them whispering and giggling like schoolgirls when Chowder was their first victim.” As they circled behind the nasty green couch, Bitty hastily moved his left leg to keep it from touching. “You are a good sport, though. And a very comfortable steed, might I add.” Bitty kicks him lightly in the thighs. “Giddyup!” he whispers with delight.

Jack gives a quiet nicker and bounces his passenger a couple of times for good measure. Jack hasn’t smiled this much in ages. He doesn’t let his mind dwell on the moments he may have denied himself for all the times he left kegsters early or didn’t realize how amazing Bitty was sooner. He ignores the way his heart bursts when Bitty’s laughter carries over the sounds of a hundred drunk people singing and wailing. He pretends he’s not excited that Lardo is filming the whole thing. 

The song and lap end too soon for both Jack and Bitty’s liking. Once he’s carefully helped his passenger down, he turns and gives a private smile. Shitty chooses that time to run over to them, wrap an arm around each of their shoulders, and declare his undying love for them and everyone on the team. Lardo also takes the opportunity to steal Bitty away, but not before giving Jack and little wink. Before he can even ask himself what it meant, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Lardo, with an attachment. He clicks on it to confirm what he already knows-- it’s the video she just took of Bitty’s victory lap. He grips his phone a little tighter in gratitude. He’s comforted to know that, should he ever need it, he can replay Bitty’s laugh with the push of a button.


	2. Lovey Dovey Bitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty's in the mood for love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love fall weather.

Even though his hunky boyfriend, is only an hour away, Bitty still misses him all the time. Between their teams’ respective schedules and Bitty’s school, they only get to see each other on the weekends, and that’s only if Jack doesn’t have an away game. Some days he wishes it was July 4th again and they were sitting in the back of an old pickup truck, watching the fireworks. After Jack returned to Providence for training, Bitty would dream about that night over and over again. Despite their limited face-to-face time, Bitty has no regrets, though. He’s proud of Jack and grateful that they had the summer to talk and cement their relationship. 

It was a perfect Wednesday night in September and Bitty was on a natural high. He had mastered a new pie recipe he’d been working on, the evening breeze was filtering in through his window, and he was scheduled to chat with Jack at 7 o’clock. As the wind tickled his leg hairs, he found himself snuggling into his comfortable bed and tracing random patterns on his stomach as he waited for Jack to call. Right at 7:01pm, the phone rang.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii Honey!”

“Heh, hey Bits. You sound like you’re having a nice night.”

“Yes sirree. Tonight’s weather goes to show why Fall is the best season ever.” He stretches and hears Jack snicker at his content noises-- his “happy whine” as Holster once called it. “Wish you were here to snuggle with me, Sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah? Would I be the big spoon or the little spoon this time?”

“Sweetie, I know you hate being the little spoon. Besides, I don’t mind having your arms around me.” In the background, Jack could hear Ransom yelling about putting money in the fine jar. “Rans, hush! Hang on, Love, I’m shutting my door to block out the rude people.”

“Heh, sorry I’m not there to share the financial burden of our conversations.” If there was one thing about living in the Haus that Jack doesn’t miss, it’s the random fines the guys would come up with.

“I don’t mind, Honey. Most of it gets spent on the kitchen anyway. Sweetie...where are you? You sound like you’re underwater all of a sudden.”

There’s a muffled noise before Jack is back on the phone, “Oh yeah, sorry about that. Is this better?” 

“Yeah, thanks Honey. What are you doing over there, anyway?” 

“Just missing you,”Jack deflected. “Ooh! Tell me how the pie turned out!” 

Bitty immediately went into a 30-minute long ramble about the beauty of the boysenberry that had Jack grateful for the distraction. When Bitty ended the story and got his breath back, Jack took his chance. 

“Hey B, I hate to do this, but I gotta let you go.”

Bitty sat up in his bed. “What? But we just started talking. Oh no-- I went into another baking fugue, didn’t I?”

Jack smiled, “Yes, you did, but at least now I know what climates I need to live in should I want to farm boysenberries.” Bitty giggles and Jack’s heart melts, like it does every time. “I can call you back in about 15 minutes.”

“Oh! Well then, that’s fine. I’m sure you’ve got a good reason, Mister Man.”

“The best. I’ll tell you all about it when I call back. Save some of that sweet talk till then, okay?” 

“Till then, Sweetheart.” Bitty makes kissy noises into the phone, then hangs up. Through his open window, he hears Ransom yell about another fine from upstairs. “Do you want pie or not?” he screams in reply. The loaded silence tells Bitty he won this round. As he waits for Jack to call him back, be replays their conversation in his head. He’s positive he never used Jack’s name-- only endearments. He groaned. Well, Ransom definitely knows I’m dating someone now.

Bitty was debating what his Halloween costume should be this year when there’s a knock on his bedroom door. “Come back later. Waiting for a phone call.” Another knock follows, and Bitty huffs as he gets up to answer the door. “Ransom, I’m revoking your pie privileges for the rest of the--” Bitty loses his train of thought when the door opens to reveal Jack, holding a pint of Bitty’s favorite ice cream, and two spoons. 

After a rare moment of speechlessness, Bitty, in a surprising show of strength, grabs him by his shirt’s collar and slams the door shut while pushing Jack against it. He almost loses his grip on the spoons when he’s bombarded with hugs and happy whines. “Glad to see you, too, B,” he whispers.

“You! You...you’re so sneaky, Jack Laurent Zimmerman!” He proceeds to place tiny kisses all over Jack’s face. 

“Bits,” Jack says, softly, laughing as he leads Bitty to the bed. “I had something important to tell you.” When he was sure he had Bitty’s full attention, he continued. “I don’t HATE being the little spoon. I just love holding you more.” 

Bitty blushes and gives Jack a coquettish grin. “You came here all the way to bring me ice cream and make a spoon joke?” he chirps. 

Jack sets the items on the nightstand, places his hands on Bitty’s hips, and pulls him into his lap. “I wanted to take advantage of this weather and your good mood.” He kisses Bitty with a controlled passion. 

“Jack...it’s not the weather that gets me in the mood.” He slowly blinks as he stares at his amazing, thoughtful boyfriend. “It’s you.” He continues to kiss him as he slides off Jack’s lap and pushes him down on the bed.

After all, ice cream tastes good melted, too.


	3. Check Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty gets injured during a game and Jack makes an unexpected visit.

Samwell is having their best game of the season. Dex set Bitty up with a wicked assist in the first minute and the momentum continued all the way to the second intermission, Samwell beating Brown by five. In addition to the first goal, Bitty had also made the last before the break; needless to say, he skated away from the visitors’ net feeling like a pro. His teammates cheered with him and laughed as he snuck in a scratch spin on their way off the ice. A bump to his shoulder had him stumbling out of the spin. Skating back to his own side was #51, his archnemesis for today’s match. Bitty threw him some serious shade before leaving the ice.

“Okay, superstar, bring it in,” scolded Coach Hall, with a hint of laughter. “Let’s try not to showboat too much, eh? Don’t want to piss in the Bears’ Cheerios any more than necessary.”

Bitty ducked his head and giggled as he entered the locker room. “Sorry, Coach.”

“Listen up, you chowderheads!” Once the room was silent, Coach Hall continued. “Great game so far, gentlemen. Really great teamwork. Bittle, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you were flying out there.”

The team banged their sticks on the ground in agreement. Holster whispers into Ransom’s ear, “More like WHO’s gotten into him…”

“Bro, sick! That’s like imagining your parents having sex.” Ransom whisper-yelled in reply. Lardo smacks the back of their heads to shut them up.

Coach continued, “New kids-- Poindexter, Wicks-- nice assists. Chow-- great blocking out there.” More stick banging followed until someone cleared their throat. “Yes, Captains, your scores were awesome, too.” Ransom and Holster stood up and bowed while the locker room hooted and hollered. “Okay, okay, pipe down. Let’s not get too cocky going into this last period. We’ve got a comfortable lead, so I think we should change the lineup some. Nurse, sub in for Wicks. Wagner, for Poindexter. O’Meara, for Ransom. Holster, see if you can help these newbies earn some gold stars. Murray, take over the pep talk. Bittle, follow me.”

Bitty stood hesitantly and followed the coach to the side. “Bittle, got a special assignment for you, kid. Check.”

“Ex-excuse me, Coach?” Bitty stammered.

“Check, kid. You’ve gotten better at taking them, but I want to see you dishing them out more. Look, we all know your smaller stature makes you a hidden weapon. Why do you think #51 has been on you all game? He underestimated you time and again and is paying for it. But now that the cat’s outta the bag, let’s really show them not to mess with Eric Bittle, eh?”

Bitty fidgeted with his pads, thinking. Coach was right. If he’s ever going to be taken seriously by his opponents, he’s got to be ready to step up. “You’re right, Coach.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve gotta be fearless. Guess I’ll start with our favorite Brown Bear, #51.”

“Godspeed, kid.” He taps Bitty’s helmet and follows him back to the huddle. “Bring it in, gentlemen! Oluransi, take us out!” And with that, Ransom leads them in their traditional, Samwell war cry and leads them out of the locker room.

The hometown crowd goes nuts as the Wellies take the ice. Bitty heads to the center for the face off. In his peripheral, he sees #51 glowering at him like Bitty killed his puppy. Bring it, bi-atch, thinks Bitty. The ref drops the puck and Bitty gets to it first, launching it to Holster, who quickly divests it to Wagner. Bitty picks up speed as he tries to get in a good position. He temporarily loses focus on #51 in favor of helping set Wagner up for an assist or goal. By the time he remembers his assignment, he can’t find his nemesis anywhere. He glances back at the visitors’ net in time to see Holster and Wagner tag team on their 7th goal. Bitty squeals and throws his padded arms and stick straight in the air.

It’s as he’s making his way to the celebratory pile-up that he receives a surprise uppercut from the blade end of a stick. It slices right under his face mask, hitting him in his left orbital socket. He thinks he yells-- someone yells? Multiple yells? He’s only sure of pain and blood at this point. He can’t see where he’s going, so falling to his knees seems like a good idea. He shucks his gloves and grabs his face. He’s pretty sure it’s shredded, maybe his eyeball, too. Hard to think straight when the roar of the crowd becomes dimmer as his breathing gets shallower. Seems like a good time to mentally check out.

 

It’s because of the celebrating that hardly anyone is aware that something has happened. Holster is making sure to tap all his players on their helmets in an act of solidarity when he notices Bitty’s not around them. He looks towards the other end of the ice and what he sees makes his blood boil and freeze simultaneously. Five of the Brown players are fighting amongst themselves, with #51 in the middle. But Bitty-- Oh my God, Bitty. Holster is frantic as he makes his way to his friend. He vaguely hears Coach Murray yelling at the ref and the visitors. He reaches Bitty seconds before Coach Hall.

“Bits, oh Bits, geez. Okay, okay, you’re okay.” Holster does his best to keep calm for his friend, but there’s blood everywhere, some having fallen to the ice in a substantial puddle. He wants to help, but he’s afraid to even touch him. Jesus, the blood. “Bits, can you hear me?” His worry increases when Bitty doesn’t react.

“Bittle, it’s Coach Hall.” He kneels on the ice. He grabs onto Bitty’s shoulders and repeats, “Can. You. Hear Me?” He tightens his grip when he doesn’t receive a response. “Eric! Shit, he’s going into shock. Dammit! Birkholtz, get those Brownies to shut the hell up.”

Holster is about to stand up, ready to murder some idiots, when a hand to his shoulder stops him. It’s Ransom. “Stay with him, brah. I’ll take care of them.” And with that, his best friend grabs Wagner and O’Meara and skates over to the tangle of Brown Bears that the refs are trying to straighten out. Holster doesn’t know what he says, but they shut the hell up immediately. The fans follow suit, and all the other players have taken a knee. Lardo has taken two. Coach Murray appears with a medic and all attention is back on Bitty.

“Lay him down,” orders the medic, opening his kit and throwing a glance at Holster. “#4, put his legs in your lap and keep them elevated. Coach, what’s his name?”

“Bittle-- Eric,” replies Coach Murray.

“Eric, hey, my name is Wes. Can you tell me what happened?” When there’s no response, he turns on his penlight and gently places his hands on Bitty’s wrists. “Eric, I need to look at your face, alright? I’m going to remove your hands now.” Still no response, so Wes slowly brings his hands down and focuses his penlight at both eyes.

Holster holds his breath and bows his head. He hears Coach Hall cursing under his breath. Coach only curses when he’s worried. God, Jack is going to be so pissed at me.

“Oh hey, there you are.” Holster snaps his head up at Wes’ words in time to see Bitty blinking slowly at the light. “You with us, Eric?” He nods his head a fraction, causing a collective sigh of relief from the group. “Excellent. Well, the good news is you still have both of your eyeballs. Congrats. But the bad news is-- you’re a bleeder.” When Bitty responds with a small smile, Wes adds, “Seriously, it’s like a crime scene on your face. Someone call _Major Crimes_.” The tiny giggle thaws the tension that had built up in only a matter of minutes.

“Jeez, kid. Don’t scare us like that again,” sighs Coach Hall. “Murray, take over, will ya? I want to find out who the hell did this.” And with that, he stalks off towards the ref.

Bitty looks around and realizes Holster is holding his feet in his lap. “Oh, hey Hols. Is the game over already?”

Holster laughs at his confused friend. “No, dude. We’ve still got another...ten minutes and some change. You ready to get back out there?” he teases.

“Heavens, no. I feel like…” He takes a deep breath and wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, I feel like I just did a hundred triple lutzes in a row.”

“Think you can walk, Eric?” asks Murray, while Wes wipes some blood from Bitty’s face with practiced ease.

“Maybe.” He turns his puppy eyes to Holster, who grins.

“Come on Bits-- let’s get you to the locker room so we can finish creaming those Brownies.” He and Murray each grab an arm while Wes closes his med kit. The four slowly make their way to Samwell’s dugout. The relieved applause from the spectators is deafening.

Holster hands Bitty off to Ransom and Dex and watches as they follow Wes to the locker room. He laughs when they bend down and pick him up in a two-man carry. The last thing he hears is Bitty whining, “You guys…”

The coaches from both teams are huddled with the refs on center ice. Wicks hands Holster the gear that he left on the ice and gives him a fist bump in gratitude. The Samwell players form a loose circle in the dugout and, after Rans and Dex rejoin them, have their own powwow. They all start talking a mile a minute so Holster isn’t able to get the full story before the coaches are back.

“Okay, gentlemen, listen up,” orders Coach Hall, while Murray makes his way to the locker room. “Bittle is going to be just fine. Deep breath.” The team obeys. “Now, we’ve got 10+ minutes of game time left. The guilty party is out of the game, so keep a level head and stay cool. We’ll talk details once we’ve finished destroying them.” The team grunts in affirmation. “Oluransi, you’re back in for Bittle. We’ve got this game in the bag, but let’s see if we can’t squeeze them for every point they’re willing to give.” And with that, an overly exuberant Samwell Hockey team hits the ice.

The game ends with Samwell leading 8-1. They grudgingly line up to shake the hands of their opponents, but none of them are feeling particularly hospitable. Brown’s captain stops Ransom and Holster at the end of the line; he looks devastated. “Guys, I…I am so sorry for what happened. Between you and me, it pains me to call that doucheturd a teammate. What he did to your man was despicable. I truly hope he’s okay.” Rans and Hols glance at each other, nod, and extend their hands to the captain. He looks slightly relieved at the olive branch, but the guilt remains on his face. Holster can’t help but think that any guy that carries a teammate’s issues as his own burden must be a good captain. They return to their own teammates, cutting their victory laps short in favor of checking on Bitty.

When they get to the locker room, equipment is tossed haphazardly towards their respective cubbies as the guys seek out news on Bitty. Murray is sitting at the far end of the locker room. The expression on his face isn’t very uplifting, and the noises simmers down quickly. It’s Chowder that breaks the silence. “Coach, where’s Bitty?”

Murray removes his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. “Wes took him to the hospital. He’ll be alright.”

Ransom responds, “He WILL be alright? I thought he WAS alright! Dex and I left him here with you, Lardo, and that medic and he was FINE!”

“Calm down, Justin.” Murray held his hands up in surrender. “Look, after you headed back to the game, Eric got a little loopy. His eyes glazed over while Wes was prepping him for stitches and...and he had a small seizure.” At the team’s startled gasps, he added, “It didn’t last long, but he wasn’t very coherent. Larissa went with him to the hospital. The ambulance left about 5 minutes ago.”

“Coach,” Wicks begins, stepping forward. “What happened out there?”

“#51 happened, that’s what!” Chowder shouts.

When the noise began to rise again, Coach Hall held his hand up in a call for silence. “Look, no one knows why that prick had it out for Bittle this whole game, but he was out of line, that’s for damn sure. From what we’ve gathered, Bittle was passing him on his way to the goal celly and he sticked him in the head with the edge of his blade. Bittle went into shock-- took him awhile to be aware of us around him. He seemed to come around well enough on the ice. And then, well, you know the rest. They’ll suspend #51 for the rest of the season more than likely.”

The team slumps onto the benches like cut marionettes. All except for Holster. He pays no one any mind as he sheds pads and clothing on his way to the shower. He’s gone only a moment before he’s storming back to his cubby, a towel barely sitting on his waist, and searching for his clean clothes. When he notices his motionless teammates, he snaps them back to attention. “Anyone that needs a ride to the hospital-- my car is leaving in two minutes.” And with that, the locker room becomes a frenzy of movement. It is simply understood that everyone is going to see Bitty.

 

Once they got to the hospital, Wes promised Lardo that he’d keep her up to date with Bitty’s status before he ran after the gurney, shouting stats she couldn’t understand. A kind nurse took pity and led her to the right waiting room. Waiting room? More like Purgatory. Every minute dragged on like it was an hour. She pulled out her phone and stared at it, desperate to call Shitty. But if she called him, he’d call Jack, and Jack was busy playing with his own team. What would Bitty want her to do? Naturally, he’d want Jack with him, but he’s so self-sacrificing-- the thought of ruining Jack’s concentration during a game is a foreign concept to Bits.

The choice is taken out of her hands when her phone buzzes and Shitty’s name appears on the screen. Deep breath. “Hey Shits.”

“Lardo!” Shitty yells. “I was listening to the Samwell game while watching the Falcs on the tube. Please tell me I misunderstood the announcer.”

“‘Fraid not, Shits. Bitty is...geez, I don’t even know,” her voice turning frantic. “He was fine one minute, then seizing the next. And I wanted to call you but I know you’d call Jack, and you know how Bitty is about protecting his game, but I know he’d want him with him so I should probably call--”

“Slow down, girl. I’m headed to Provy right now. I’ll try to collect Jack the moment his game is over. He definitely doesn’t need to be driving once he finds out.”

Lardo puts her head in her hands and sighs. “Thanks, Shitty. See you when we see you.”

“You got it. And Lar?” He pauses. “He’ll be fine.”

She hangs up her phone, wondering if she has Mrs. Bittle’s number in her phone somewhere. Just as she starts to search, the kind nurse from before brings in the rest of the team. Ransom and Holster head straight for her, followed by the coaches. “No news yet, guys.”

Coach Hall sees the stress in her eyes and takes charge. “Alright men, take a seat and behave yourselves. I’m going to go call his parents.” Some of the players got out their phones to update interested parties. Others took to their usual nervous ticks-- nail biting, rubbing the back of their heads, etc.

“Someone should call Jack,” Ransom sighed.

Lardo rests her head on the back of her seat. “No need. Shitty’s already left to pick him up.”

Ransom nods and looks over at his best friend. “You’ve been quiet, Hols.”

“So?”

“So, you’re usually not quiet in these situations. What’s going on?” He gently elbows him in the ribs to spur a confession.

“I...I can’t face Jack. Bits got hurt on my watch. I should have paid more attention. How did I not notice #51 was gunning for him? He--”

“Whoa!” Ransom cuts him off. “Chill, bro. You’re talking crazy. It’s not your fault. And Jack is not going to be mad; Bitty won’t be mad. No one has been, is, or will be mad at you for this. Got it?”

After several expressions pass his face, Holster finally concedes. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, man.”

Time drags until finally Wes comes out, followed closely by a doctor. Wes points out Coach Hall and they approach with confidence. “Coach Hall, I’m Dr. Roberts. I spoke with Mr. Bittle’s parents earlier and, as his medical proxies, they have given me permission to share patient status with all of you. Mr. Bittle-- Eric-- is stable and is expected to make a full recovery.” After some sighs of relief and fist bumps amongst the team, he continues. “Based on Wes’ onsite observations and the tests we’ve run, we can confirm that Eric has a moderate concussion. Combined with the shock from earlier, it caused him to seize. The seizure did not last long, so brain damage should not be a factor. However, we will not know 100% until he wakes up, which could be soon or several hours from now. He also received some severe bruising to his left orbital socket, but pupils responded beautifully, so no loss of eyesight is expected. He did have to have 8 stitches over that same eye.”

“Just 8?” Holster blurts out. “He bled like an artery was nicked.” 

“Head wounds are notorious for being heavy bleeders,” Dr. Roberts clarified. “It’s just part of their charm.”

“Whimsy,” O’Meara whispers to Wagner. “Nice.”

Dr. Roberts closed the folder he was reading from and smiles. “All in all, Eric is very lucky, and I’m optimistic about his recovery.”

Coach Hall steps forward and shakes his hand. “Thank you, Doc. When can we see him?”

“We’ll be moving him to a recovery room shortly. I’ll have someone come get you soon.” And with that, Dr. Roberts heads back behind the closed double doors. 

Wes looks at them all, smiles big, and gives two thumbs up. Coach Murray thanks him for taking care of Eric and they continue to chat while they wait some more.

Eventually, a nurse comes to give them Bitty’s room number, but requests they keep the group visit short as it was getting late in the evening. The team marches single file to Bitty’s room and every member takes the opportunity to confirm he’s alright with their own eyes. He seems to be resting comfortably, and despite the rainbow of colors on his face, he looks okay. Lardo takes the seat next to him and grabs his hand. There’s quiet chatter amongst the group, with some whispered words to the unconscious Bitty. 

At around 8pm, the small crowd is asked to leave for the evening. Lardo tells the nurse that she, Holster, and Ransom are staying until Bitty’s parents arrive and politely makes it clear that Shitty and Jack will be allowed to enter once they get there, too. The nurse gives her a look of respect and agrees with her terms. The rest of the group says their goodbyes as Lardo makes sure she gets Mrs. Bittle’s cell number from Coach Hall. She assures him that, as team manager, she’ll coordinate the hospitality for his parents. Coach ruffles her hair and tells her she’s a good kid. 

 

Lardo finishes a text to Mrs. Bittle to read when she’s off the plane, telling her to look for Ransom outside arrivals at the airport. They won’t be landing for another couple of hours, but she wants to be useful while they wait for Jack and Shitty to get there. Bitty is still unconscious. Or sleeping. Whatever-- he’s out like a light. Lardo is about to look up availability and rates at local hotels when Jack and Shitty give a cursory knock on the door and make their way in. Jack’s hair is damp and Lardo wonders briefly if it’s game sweat or shower remnants. He’s wearing his kicked puppy expression and Shitty is guiding him to the bed as if he’s been handling Jack all his life.

Jack has never been more thankful that the team knows about their relationship. He can’t keep his emotions reined in as he spies the discoloration and bandages on Bitty’s pale face. He quickly situates himself on the side of the bed so he can stroke Bitty’s hair with ease. When he finally speaks, it’s thick with unshed tears. “What happened?”

Lardo, who is perched on the arm of the chair she surrendered to Shitty, is about to speak with Holster stands up and interrupts. “Jack, I’m so sorry. I know it’s not my fault,” he glances at Ransom, “but he got hurt while I was on the ice with him. I should have looked out for him better.” 

Ransom stands and slings his arm around him, gently chirping him. “Now buddy, I thought we talked about this. Jack’s not mad at you.” He takes over the telling of what happened while Holster keeps his eyes on the ground. Once he’s done, he adds, “Hols was the first to see something was wrong, and he was with Bitty till he came around.” He squeezes his best friend’s shoulder and looks to Jack for a response.

“Hols?” Jacks asks, seeking his attention. Once Holster gives him his full attention, he continues. “Thank you. You did good.” Hols was stunned and blushed slightly at the unexpected compliment. Jack gave him a warm smile, and turned back to Bitty for one more hair caress. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he steps to the window to answer the call.

“Geez, that #51 sounds like a real piece of work,” Shitty says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Funny that his numbers are the inverse of Bitty’s.” Lardo gave him a noogie and called him a nerd. He licked her arm in reply. The chorus of careful laughter that broke out was interrupted by a groan and shifting of the bed sheets. Everyone fell silent as Bitty’s eyes peeled open.

Lardo presses the call button for the nurse.“Bits, hey. How are you feeling?” He attempts to answer, but the raspiness keeps him from continuing. She preps a cup of water for him and helps Bitty take a small sip from the straw.

“Mmm, thanks,” he manages. He takes a slow look around the room, taking the time to look everyone in the eye. As Jack approaches, they lock eyes and Bitty stares at him, confusion on his face. “Jack…” His forehead scrunches in pain likes he putting every piece together as quickly as possible. Finally, his eyes widen and begin to water. “Honey! What are you doing here? You have a game!”

“Mon coeur,” Jack whispers as he pushes Bitty’s hair back from his forehead and kisses it gently. “Game’s over. We won, and so did you guys. Shitty came to get me when he found out you were hurt.” 

Before Bitty can respond, the nurse enters. Bitty looks at her with the same, confused expression. “Oh, I’m in the hospital,” he declares in a childlike fashion. Everyone giggles, even the nurse.

“Well, you’ve answered my first question,” she chirps. “Can you remember how you got here, hon?”

Bitty nods, regretting the action. “Owwww.” While she injects a pain med in his IV, she asks him some questions on basic math, what year it was, etc. She asks him what he remembers about the incident. He can only remember bits and pieces because of the shock, but his recollection is decent. It’s as he’s nearing the end of his version of events that he turns to look at Holster. His eyes have gotten droopy and his head wobbles like he’s hungover. “Hols, tell me the truth. Was it my archnemesis?” 

Hols chuckles and nods. “#51? Yeah. He got you good, Bits. Why he had it out for you, I dunno.”

Bitty adopts a serious expression while the nurse checks his vitals. “I know why,” he states. “Jelly.”

Lardo chuckles. “Jelly?”

Bitty purses his lips. “Yes, jelly. Of my mad skills.” 

A laugh erupts from Shitty so violently that he has to cover his mouth to keep the volume down. Once he’s collected himself, he says, “Oh my Itty Bitty beaut, I love you. Never a dull moment.”

Bitty sticks his tongue out at him, then gasps. “Oh dear, I didn’t do my homework! I gotta call Coach Hall!”

Ransom dares to ask him, “What homework, B?”

Bitty looks at him, bereft. “I was supposed to practice checking on #51, but he got me instead. I’m gonna fail hockey!”

They couldn’t help but giggle at his despair. The nurse, God bless her, takes pity and assures him that he can get extra credit once he’s better. He calms down at that and smiles, so she finishes her exam and declares him to be operating normally, given the circumstances. She asks him how his pain level is now and Bitty holds his hand up to form a circle. “Zéro, mon infirmière.” 

Jack startles at his French and replies, “Très bien, mon amour. Vous pouvez parler français?”

Bitty looks at him with adoration. “Oui, mon cher.”

Jack ducks his head and laughs. “Of course his French is better when he’s high as a kite.” He looks at the nurse. “Can he borrow some of that medicine for his French final exam?” She laughs and promises to look into that, then excuses herself from the room.

Lardo’s phone buzzes. “Rans, it’s almost time to collect the Bittles.”

Bitty’s face lights up. “Mommy!” he exclaims. “Yay!”

“Oh boy, he’s getting too adorable,” says Holster. “Dude, I’m coming with you before I cry puppies or something.” They say their goodbyes and head to the airport. 

Shitty has pulled out his phone to film more adorable Bitty quips, and Lardo takes the opportunity to ask Jack if he’d like some alone time with Bitty. 

Jack looks at Bitty, who’s smiling at Shitty and trying his best to stay awake. “Heh, I don’t think he’ll be awake much longer anyway, but yes, that would actually be nice. Thank you, Lards. For everything.” 

“Anytime, Zimms.” She smiles and walks over to collect Shitty. “I’ll text Ransom and tell him to give you a buzz when they’re close to the hospital. Bits, say bye to Shitface. We’ll be back by tomorrow if you’re still being held hostage.” 

“Bye Lardooo. Bye Shitface!” He blinks slowly at them and gives a clumsy wave as they shut the door behind them.

Jack helps him get comfy and takes his place in the chair closest to his head. He takes his hand and soothes his cowlick one more time. “Don’t worry, Bits. I’ll wake you when your parents get here.” He kisses Bitty gently on the lips. 

Bitty smiles at him and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “Bonne nuit, mon chéri.” He’s asleep in seconds. 

Jack kisses the back of his small hand and thanks whatever deity gave him this perfect boy. “Bonne nuit, mon coeur. Je t'aime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [SkyHighFan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyHighFan/pseuds/SkyHighFan) for telling me about the blonde, gay vlogger from _Major Crimes_.


	4. Bitty's Birthday Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close encounter of the furry kind.

Jack was stressing out. Bitty’s birthday was approaching and he had no idea how he can top last year’s oven. Last weekend, while he was visiting Bitty at the Haus, he took the time to snoop around his room to see if any ideas came to mind. Bitty was in the shower and on the second to last song of his Bath Time Playlist*, so his brainstorming time was almost up. He flopped down on the bed next to Señor Bunny on the pillow. “Can you tell me what Bits wants for his birthday, Bun?” _No dummy, I’m a stuffed rabbit_ , Jack chirped to himself. _Hmm, could Bun use a companion? No,_ he thought. _Bun is special._ _And Bitty doesn’t need toys._ He glances over to the action figure of himself he had given Bitty. _Okay, he doesn’t need any MORE toys_.

He laid down on the bed next to Bun, remembering the story Bitty told him about how his momma used to read _The Velveteen Rabbit_ to him almost every night at bedtime. After the closet lock-in experience of 7th grade, Momma had dug out their old copy of the book and read it to him after a really bad nightmare. That following weekend, she visited the Build-A-Bear store and made Bitty his very own Velveteen Rabbit. She wasn’t sure what kind of accessories he’d want him to have, so she bought a few that her Dickey might like, one of them being a tiny sombrero. And thus, Señor Bun was born.

Jack sat up and gave Bun a squeeze, the batteries in his voice box having died long ago. The perfect gift idea hit him right as the door to Bitty’s room opened, so Bitty got to witness Jack’s excited face, which is showing up more and more as their relationship grows. “Sweetheart, I know I just got out of the shower, but I’m fully dressed. Either you REALLY missed me, or Bun has told you all my secrets.”

Jack blushed and ducked his head, but played along as to not give anything away. “I always miss you, Bits, but Bun just gave me a really good idea that I’m excited about.” Sensing Bitty’s next question he continued, “And no, I can’t tell you about it. Not yet.” At his boyfriend’s pout, he wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close. “Now, let me show you just how much I HAVE missed you.”

“Ooh, I sense another shower in my future…” Bitty trailed off as he straddled Jack’s thighs.

 

Finally, it’s Bitty’s Birthday Weekend and Jack finds himself waiting on Bitty’s bed. Again. This time, Bitty doesn’t know he’s here. It’s Thursday, May 5th-- Bitty’s actual birthday-- but Jack wasn’t expected until Saturday. Thanks to Lardo and Bitty’s predictable shower routine, Jack managed to keep his early arrival a secret. He had told Lardo to call him when she heard “Nylons in a Rip” playing. (What-- doesn’t everyone have the order of their boyfriend’s shower playlist memorized?) It gave him plenty of time to set up the surprise.

Beyoncé was belting out the last note on “Halo” as Jack readied himself for Bitty’s appearance. Suddenly, the door opens and there’s an excited shriek from Bitty as he runs and jumps on the bed next to Jack. “Honey, I didn’t know you were getting here tonight! Oh gosh, you haven’t been waiting long, have you? I could have stopped after ‘Roman Holiday’ had I known.”

Jack wraps his arms around him and breathes in the minty scent of Bitty’s shampoo. “Not long. Bun’s been keeping me company.” He kisses the top of Bitty’s head.

Bitty snuggles into his chest and sighs happily. “Mmm...Bun’s always a good listener.” He raises his head to smile at Bun, but doesn’t see him in his usual spots on the bed or by the window. “Wait, where IS Bun?”

Jack snickers. “He said something about running out to get you a birthday present? I think he got some ‘hare’ brained scheme in his head.”

Bitty jabs his boyfriend in the ribs for his bad pun. “You’re so silly, Mr. Zimmerman.” He kisses him and runs his hands through his hair.

Jack hates to stop the petting, but he simply cannot wait any longer to show Bitty his surprise, so he stands them both up and leads Bitty over to his desk. There, where his laptop and books usually sit, is a big cage containing the softest, cutest brown rabbit that Bitty has ever seen. He gasps and coos at the same time, and spins to ask Jack a million questions. Jack is smiling and holding Bun out in front of him. “Bun and I figured that, since he couldn’t turn into a real rabbit like the Velveteen, that he should have one for a brother.”

Bitty was speechless. Next to Señor Bun, this was one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given him in his lifetime. It was terribly sweet and corny and Bitty’s eyes teared from happiness and he threw his arms around Jack. “Sweetheart...I can’t believe you got me a rabbit for my birthday!”

“Do you like him?” Jack asks, nervously.

“I LOOOOOVE HIM!” Bitty turns back to the rabbit and continues in soft tones. “Hey there little guy, want to give your new daddy a hug?” He reaches in the cage and carefully picks it up; it instantly tucks its snout into his elbow nook. “Oh my God,” he stage whispers. “I think my heart just melted.” He turns himself and the rabbit to face Jack and Bun. “Look Bun, you guys are twins.” He looks into his boyfriend’s eyes and smiles. “Jack, what should we name him?”

Jack, who had been grinning at Bitty’s adorable reaction to the rabbit, smiled brighter at the mention of “we.” That Bitty did it on instinct made Jack lean in and kiss him. He pulled back to say, “Whatever you want, mon coeur.”

Bitty smiles and thinks for a minute. “Well, we have a stuffed Velveteen Rabbit who’s Spanish...and an actual rabbit who’s half-Québécois. Hmm. Señor Bunny, allow me to introduce you to your new brother, Monsieur Lapin Réel.” He held them close together so they could meet.

After an Eskimo kiss amongst brothers, Bitty led the small party downstairs so he could introduce his family to the rest of the Haus. Jack never stopped smiling the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *For the purposes of this story, Bitty's Bath Time Playlist is:
> 
> "Nylons in a Rip" - Nikka Costa  
> "End of Time" - Beyonce  
> "Ring-A-Ling" - Black Eyed Peas  
> "Roman Holiday" - Nicki Minaj  
> "In the Ayer" - Flo Rida  
> "Pull-Up" - Jason Derulo  
> "Halo" - Beyonce


End file.
